Spiritus
by Ann Valentine
Summary: During a storm, the boys are forced to take refuge in a house in the woods . . . but they get more than they expected . . .


                He could hardly see.  The rain was coming down in sheets, and visibility was nil.  As a result, he was hunched over the steering wheel, squinting, trying to see through the rain.  

                "We ought to pull over," Specs said, folding the map and sticking it in the door pocket.  "The wind's picking up; we don't want to get blown off the road."

                "I think I see a light up ahead," Snoddy said, trying to shift without jostling Dutchy, who was asleep on his shoulder.

                There was a loud crack of thunder, followed by a brilliantly white flash of lightning.  Bumlets whimpered and covered his eyes.

                "You okay, Bums?" Specs asked, twisting in his seat.

                "Yes," Bumlets replied, his voice muffled by his hands, "but I _hate thunder."  _

                Skittery made a careful turn around a corner and saw, about three-quarters of a mile ahead, a large house.  A single light shone from the downstairs.

                "There's a house," he said, trying not to sound too relieved.  "We'll ask whoever owns it if we can stay the night." 

                He drove the remaining distance at a snail's pace, crawled into the driveway, and turned off the van's engine.  

                "Wake up, Dutchy, we're at Grandma's," Snoddy said, shaking the blonde's shoulders.

                "Dun like Gramma," Dutchy mumbled.  "Makes bad cookies."

                Snoddy leaned away from Dutchy and the blonde tumbled.

                "Whoa! Holy sh—" He sat up and glared between Snoddy and Bumlets.  "Which one of you clowns did that?" 

                The two pointed to each other.

                "I'll go see if anyone's home," Specs said.  He opened his door and bolted for the front door of the house.  Once he was safely on the stoop, he grabbed the ornately carved knocker and banged it three times.  

                A few seconds later, the door opened, revealing a stern-looking brunette girl wearing a slim-fitting black skirt and a button-down black silk blouse.

                "May I help you?" she asked.

                "Um," Specs said eloquently.  "Yeah.  Hi.  My friends and I were caught out in the storm and we were wondering if we could stay the night here."

                "Certainly," she replied.  "We can always use company.  Tell your friends to come in." She turned and walked away, the skirt swishing appealingly.  

                Specs turned and beckoned for the others.  Doors flew open and four figures dashed over to the stoop. 

                "I _hate the rain and __I __hate getting wet," Dutchy grumbled, shaking out his fine blonde hair.  _

                "And do you know what will help?" Skittery asked.

                "What?"

                "Bitching and moaning about it."  

                Dutchy glared at him, and then the five went in.  

                "Nice digs," Bumlets commented.  

                'Nice digs,' as it were, was an understatement.  The house was even more massive inside than it appeared on the outside.  The room the boys stood in had a cathedral ceiling, with a chandelier casting a gentle glow.  The walls were made of honey-colored oak, and the floor was covered with a deep red carpet.  Scattered around the room were objets d'art, and on the walls were portraits of severe-looking women.  

                "I feel like we're in an episode of _Scooby-Doo or something," Snoddy commented with a chuckle.  "Next thing you know, we'll be pulling a mask off of someone and be saying, 'It's not a ghost! It's old man Maguire!'"_

                "If this is _Scooby-Doo, I want to be Fred," Bumlets said._

                Skittery smirked.  "Yeah, and Dutchy can be Daphne.  Why don't you two _go off together?" _

                Dutchy went beet-red.

                "Would you boys care to join me in the sitting room?" a voice suddenly asked from the door.  All five boys jumped, then saw the girl standing in the doorway.

                "Y-yeah, sure," Snoddy said nervously.  

                They followed her to another room, this one smaller but no less grand than the entry hall.  Richly upholstered couches and chairs were arranged in a semicircle facing a marble fireplace.  The girl took a seat in a large, rose-colored chair and gestured for the boys to sit.

                "My name is Katarina Barton," she said without preamble.  "Who are you and why were you in the storm?"  

                Everyone looked at Skittery, who sighed.

                "My name is Mike, but everyone calls me Skittery.  These are Sam—call him Specs; Alex, he's Dutchy; Benedict, goes by Bumlets; and Erik, call him Snoddy."  He paused, trying to think of how to best phrase the situation.  "We're going cross-country on a road trip, but we got caught out in the storm."  

                "I can let you stay here for the night.  Follow me."  Katarina stood and swished out of the room.  Exchanging glances, the boys trailed after her.  

                Katarina led them through a long hallway, up a spiral staircase, down another hallway, then abruptly stopped in front of a door.  

                "You stay here," she said, pointing to Specs.  In the same curt manner, she assigned each boy a room, all in the same hallway. 

                Finally, she turned to them and inclined her head in a slight bow.  "I trust you all will have a pleasant sleep.  Good night."  She turned away and walked straight through the wall.  

                The five boys stared in shocked silence.  After a few minutes, Skittery summed up what they all felt in four simple words:

                "That girl ain't right."

*la fin part the first* 


End file.
